


At Ostagar

by RandomnonsenseDA (B1nary_S0lo)



Series: Ilora Hawke [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Hawke Family (Dragon Age) Feels, Ostagar (Dragon Age), Pre-Dragon Age II, Siblings, light carver hawke X oc, light female hawke X oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/RandomnonsenseDA
Summary: Ilora and Carver Hawke, before the Battle of Ostagar.
Relationships: Carver Hawke & Female Hawke, Hawke & Carver Hawke
Series: Ilora Hawke [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/519628
Kudos: 1





	At Ostagar

Ilora was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people gathered at Ostagar. The group of volunteer soldiers she and Carver were part of seemed small indeed when put beside the Circle mages, the soldiers who had come with the king, and of course the Grey Wardens. Ilora had never thought of herself as the type to get overwhelmed in crowds, but just making her way from the makeshift area where meals were served and back to her company’s fire set her on edge. She was relieved when she found her brother again, sitting by the fire with the others like she’d left him.

“Here you are,” she said, handing the second bowl of stew to Carver. “All they had was rabbit. Hope that’s all right.”

He took it with a mumbled “thanks.” Ilora balanced her bowl in her lap and tried to see his eyes under his bangs.

“Feeling any better?” she said.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” He took a large spoonful of stew and swallowed it, as if to prove it. Ilora fought the urge to sigh. If Carver didn’t want to talk, that was his problem.

She turned away and dug into her own stew. It was decent. The meat was a little dry.

“I wonder what mother and Bethany are doing right now,” she said. Carver gave a shrug and made a noncommittal noise, and Ilora decided to ignore this. “I hope they aren’t too worried…”

“What do they have to worry about?” Carver said. ( _He speaks!_ Ilora thought) “No Darkspawn are going to reach Lothering. Not with us in their way.”

“Perhaps. But I was thinking they might be worried about _us_.”

He sighed. “Yeah…”

She glanced over at him again, bent over his bowl. She frowned.

“Hey!”

A short human woman, her dark, tightly coiled hair in a ponytail, slid onto the log beside them. She was followed by a second woman with short, shaggy blonde hair, who sat down next to her without speaking.

“Where are you two from?” the woman said, speaking in a rush, “Erina and I are from Redcliffe. This sure is exciting, isn’t it?”

Ilora just nodded, suddenly shy. Carver leaned past Ilora to answer.

“We’re from Lothering,” he said. “I’m Carver. This is my sister.”

“Perry,” the woman said. “Nice to meet you.”

She held out her hand, and Carver reached across Ilora to shake. Something about Perry’s expression and posture when he withdrew his hand, and Ilora just knew: someone had a crush. Typical. She wondered if her brother would pick up on it this time.

“I was just saying to Erina—” Perry gestured at her friend again, “that I think the battle’ll be over within the hour. I mean, with this many soldiers? And Loghain on the battlefield?”

“Have you seen him?” Carver said. He was leaning around Ilora again, more animated than he’d been all day. “We’ve been hoping to catch a glimpse since we got here.”

“No such luck. But we saw the king! Just from a distance, but—”

Taking the hint, Ilora got up and went to sit next to Erina. Carver and Perry closed the gap as if she’d never been there. Erina nodded at her as she sat down.

“Sorry about her,” she said quietly. “I think she’s just happy to be meeting new people.”

“My brother too,” Ilora half whispered. “We… don’t get out much.” She was immediately worried she’d said too much.

“What was your name again?” Ilora said quickly.

“Erina. And yours?”

Ilora introduced herself, and they shook hands. Erina had a strong grip, and her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. Ilora folded her hands in her lap again, face hot.

“That’s a great idea!” Perry said suddenly, loudly enough to make Ilora and Erina look over.

“What’s a great idea?” said Erina, peeking around Ilora. It seemed to be an evening for that.

“We were just talking about training together. Before the battle. Would you two be interested?”

Erina and Ilora exchanged looks again, the comradery of the quiet. Erina shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. Ilora?”

“Sure. You up for it, Carver?”

Carver, who’d been smiling, seemed to bristle. “Course I am.”

Ilora frowned.

“Great!” Perry said, leaping up. “I saw some training dummies over that way. Let’s go!”

She darted off. Erina shook her head and went after her. Carver got up and followed, and so did Ilora, jogging a little to catch up with her brother.

“Hey.” She slowed down, walking in step with him. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Maker. I’m _fine_ ,” Carver muttered. He looked toward Perry walking ahead of them, as if afraid she was listening. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because you’ve been moody ever since we got here. Well, moodier than usual.”

“Maybe if you stopped trying to mother me, I wouldn’t be so moody.”

Ilora rolled her eyes, hard. “You are _impossible_ sometimes.”

“Makes two of us, I suppose.”

Before Ilora could say anything more, he hurried to the front of the group to walk beside Perry.

In spite of Carver’s bad mood, training with Perry and Erina proved more fun than Ilora had expected. The women were skilled fighters and good sparring partners, and the friends and the siblings took turns facing off and giving each other tips. As dark fell, more soldiers came by to join in or provide guidance. Ilora enjoyed falling into the rhythm of training, the sting of the calluses on her hands, the grace and speed of a well executed attack, and the good, tired feeling that came when she took a break. She’d always felt more at ease on the training ground than anywhere else, and she soon forgot her frustration with Carver. The comradery was nice too, and unexpected. Different from training with her father or brother.

“You two are great,” Perry said later, as they were packing it in. The word had gone around camp that they would be mustering soon. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

The siblings glanced at each other.

“Our father,” Ilora said, sheathing her knives. “He was very committed to us learning.”

Carver examined the blade of his sword for any nicks, and nodded. “Wanted one of each,” he said. “A rogue, a warrior and—”

“—A rogue and a warrior,” Ilora cut in quickly, elbowing Carver. Thankfully, Perry didn’t seem to notice anything off.

“Lucky. Me and Erina had to learn by spying on the soldiers at Redcliffe castle. At least, until a few caught on and agreed to teach us.”

“So, you’re not officially working for your arl, or anything like that?” Ilora said. They had begun moving slowly toward the mustering point, following the stream of bodies moving toward the front of the fortress.

“No,” Erina said, speaking for the first time. “Our parents are farmers. You have to be a career soldier for that. Get some battles under your belt. Get noticed.”

She grinned at Ilora, who suddenly felt even smaller than usual next to the tall woman.

“Yes,” said Perry. “I doubt the arl would pay us any notice now. But if we could say we fought at Ostagar…”

“Well,” Ilora said, smiling. “I hope you find all the glory you’re seeking.”

The two women thanked her. Ilora expected Carver to say something, but he was dragging his feet, expression far away.

At the gates of the fortress the various companies—king’s men, mages, Wardens, volunteers like Ilora and Carver—were being divided up and given their marching orders. Ilora listened carefully as instructions were given on the battle plan. The volunteer soldiers would be somewhere in the middle, after the Grey Wardens and King Cailan’s soldiers, but before the mages. Melee rogues and warriors would be on the battlefield, archers on the ramparts. That meant farewell to Perry and Erina, who promised to look for them when the battle was over. Erina smiled one more time at Ilora, and she saw Perry squeeze Carver’s hand before the two disappeared into the crowd.

For a horrible few minutes, Ilora thought that she and Carver were going to be separated too, when their company’s commander mentioned a new plan to send all warriors to the frontlines, regardless of company. _No,_ Ilora thought, _Not my brother._ She almost grabbed him.

But the idea was short lived. A messenger whispered something in the commander’s ear, and the instruction was reversed.

Then came standing in formation, and waiting for the command to march out. They waited for nearly an hour. Ilora shifted on her feet, trying to keep herself limber. A rogue needed to be ready to spring into action at any moment. She was so in her head that it was awhile before she noticed Carver, standing stiffly, eyes shut tight and lips moving rapidly. Ilora paused.

“Carver,” she said quietly. It took her saying his name a second time for him to finally open his eyes. He blinked.

“Are you okay?” Ilora said, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

“I—”

From somewhere far away, a horn sounded. Carver went stiff, like a hare spotted by a hunter. A flicker of movement went through the assembled soldiers, even though the order hadn’t been given to march yet.

“Are you afraid?” Ilora said quietly. She knew the answer, though. His expression was the same as at age four, when he came into her room at night because he’d heard a scary noise, or at eleven, when Father died. Why did he think he could fool her? He was her little brother.

Carver didn’t answer. He clenched his fists.

“It’s okay,” she said. Orders were barked at the various companies. Another horn sounded. “It’s okay. We’re going to be all right.”

Their commander hollered for them to stand at attention. Ilora obeyed, but glanced at her brother. He was breathing hard, fists curling and uncurling. Ilora’s own heart pounded. From somewhere not too far away, she heard marching. Snarling.

Other companies began to march. First the Grey Wardens, then the king’s army. Waves and waves of soldiers moving onto the battlefield. The volunteers waited.

“I’m afraid too,” Ilora said.

Their commander hollered: “For-ward! March!”

The front of the company began to move, waves of movement waiting to reach them. The snarling had gotten louder.

“Sis.”

She looked up. Swiftly, Carver reached over and grabbed her hand. He gave it a tight, tight squeeze. Ilora squeezed back. When had his grip gotten so strong?

Her thoughts went to apple picking. Playing pretend outside. Her father when they went to market, saying: _Don’t let go of your brother and sister’s hands, now._

Another barked order. The company began to move, and Carver let go.


End file.
